


closer together

by squidmemesinc



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Other, Sexual Seals (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tactile Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 01:16:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14842805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidmemesinc/pseuds/squidmemesinc
Summary: Brainstorm keeps disappearing when things start to heat up, and Perceptor finally learns why.





	closer together

**Author's Note:**

> SIMPATICO
> 
> I haven't written porn in like two months and this is, I think, not very much like what I usually write (there are a lot of Feelings). I'm sorry it's largely unedited, I wrote it and then was too embarrassed to read it again :'') Hope you people with higher stamina for Soft Gay ShitTM enjoy this.

Perceptor moves his hand lower, just slightly, over the armor on Brainstorm’s hip. He keeps his touch light and testing, applying additional pressure and measuring the response of Brainstorm’s field over a few clock cycles. Nothing that could be noticed if you weren’t paying attention to the careful calculation of his movements, and to do that you’d have to know he was doing it. He concludes the response to be more enthusiastic in this position than the previous one. Interesting.

Perceptor’s hand moves as if to press down into the table, but instead he taps a note into a datapad lying next to Brainstorm on the workbench he’s sitting on. His lips slip to the edge of Brainstorm’s mouth just for a moment. He twists the movement to a gentle, chaste kiss amidst their slightly more heated exchange of glossa and denta, not expecting Brainstorm to notice, and prepares to test another location.

He steps in just a little closer, bringing the closer to flush in tolerance, and again Brainstorm’s field tingles, nicely weaving through Perceptor’s soft enjoyment, indicating reciprocal pleasure. Perceptor makes another note.

This time Brainstorm pulls back. “Uh, Perce,” he starts.

Perceptor blinks, wondering why they’ve stopped, wondering if there was something he’d missed in his calculations and he’s already forfeited this opportunity. He tries not to let this small anxiety past his plating, keeping his field amicable. “Yes?”

“I, er, hmm.” His vocalizer is ticked up a notch, which Perceptor doesn’t think is a good sign. The probability that he’s misstepped has increased. “Can’t help but notice you seem to be working on something. Is now a bad time? For this?” He shrugs his fingers off Perceptor’s shoulders, where they’d been resting since Perceptor hadn’t stepped back more than to just let him talk.

Perceptor feels his facial plating warm a little. So he had noticed. He supposes he should have expected this. “No, it’s not a bad time. I was taking notes.”

Brainstorm’s eyes narrow in disbelief, and somehow despite their months of being together in this way giving him ample time to see Brainstorm’s face, Perceptor imagines him wearing his mask, because the expression in his eyes is just so familiar. “Taking notes. On making out?”

Perceptor nods.

“ _Why?_ ”

“I’m trying to figure out how to please you.”

“How to— ” Brainstorm looks surprised. “Could you just—” He shoos Percy back from him and hops down off the bench and immediately starts pacing through the lab. They probably shouldn’t be doing this here anyway, Perceptor thinks belatedly. Brainstorm reaches the end of the bench and immediately picks up an abandoned project he hadn’t thought to put away. He’s far away enough now that Perceptor can’t sense his field, but he thinks he might be nervous.

“What do you… Why do you think you have to…?” He’s fiddling with a loose component on the device—Perceptor isn’t even sure what it’s meant to do—and not looking at him.

Perceptor takes a tentative step closer to Brainstorm, wanting to ease the sensation that he’s done something wrong. His intention was to correct any discomfort in the first place. Since Brainstorm seems to be at a loss for words, he says that. “There were a couple of other times since we started doing this that you seemed to get uncomfortable and left. I thought perhaps I was being careless with you and I wanted to correct any misstep I might have made.”

Brainstorm looks away from the thing he’s holding and stares at Perceptor until he begins to sense this was a strange thing to say. “I should have brought it up with you sooner,” he adds, trying to grasp at truth of this situation, where precisely his mistake is, which has remained, infuriatingly, out of his grasp this whole time.

“No,” Brainstorm says quickly. He sets the device aside and circles around the other side of the bench, avoiding passing by Perceptor, to pick up his mask from where he’d left it and fit it back onto his face. He comes up to Perceptor and takes both his hands, squeezes them a little too hard, and looks back up to face him. “Sorry, this is my fault. Come by later and I’ll explain.”

He starts to drop Percy’s hands and Percy resists the urge to hold onto them, sensing that might not help. “Brainstorm—”

But Brainstorm is already halfway across the room. “I promise I’ll explain later!” He waves at Perceptor and scuttles away, faster than Percy thinks he needs to.

He can barely focus on his work for the rest of the day.

Brainstorm sends him a message hours later that just says, ‘Come over whenever. Don’t bring any datapads.’

Typically, Brainstorm’s messages are a good deal longer, with more humor in them than this one contains, and considerably more emoji-laden. Perceptor can’t tell if he’s intending to be jovial about the datapad thing, but he feels like that was a mistake regardless. He intends to make a more formal apology when he sees Brainstorm. He tries to be objective about the situation and concludes he doesn’t have enough data to decide the outcome will be unfavorable, but at the same time, he is so deep in the dark about this.

Their courtship had started out pleasant and admirable, but Perceptor feels as if Brainstorm has been pulling away the more he tries to increase their intimacy. Certainly that isn’t an unusual reaction to the deepening of a relationship, but Perceptor hadn’t thought Brainstorm would be the type to do that, especially after people had told him Brainstorm had apparently been pining after him for ages. He still doesn’t know how he hadn’t picked up on that, and has been given no other option but to conclude it’s just that he never paid Brainstorm enough mind to notice his eccentricities, until the full scale of his genius was something he’d been forced to confront for the safety of their universe.

Perceptor does not like being saddled with only one possible conclusion, as often those situations are so limited due to their lack of factual evidence or collected data. More data always ensures a better result, in Perceptor’s experience. Which is why he was trying to figure out why Brainstorm might be shying away from him, but, this is the point where his thoughts begin to become cyclical.

He hears the chime of the doorbell through the wall when he presses it, perhaps the sound of pacing footsteps halting and redirecting towards the door. It opens abruptly and he’s greeted with a kiss, a fierce one with Brainstorm’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him inside as they try not to trip over each other’s feet and tumble into furniture. Perceptor doesn’t know the layout of Brainstorm’s hab suite, as he’s never been to it before, and it seems that may still remain a mystery if their faces are going to remain pressed together for the duration of his stay.

He wouldn’t normally say no to a kiss, but he was promised an explanation, and his curiosity, scientific or otherwise, is getting the better of him. Gently, he pries Brainstorm off of him, hoping not to offend anymore than he already has but needing to take the risk. “Brai—”

“I’m a virgin,” Brainstorm blurts out, taking a step backwards. “I get spooked when things start getting physical. I was trying not to, but I didn’t want you to know, and I thought you’d lose interest anyway before it got to that point, and after a certain point I just didn’t know how to tell you.” He looks miserable and exhausted, and Perceptor is as stunned by that as his words. The words are almost secondary to the impulse he has to wrap his arms around his partner, but logic forces him to pause and consider if that’s wanted. Not enough information. He stands at a loss and a distance.

“I don’t know what else to say,” Brainstorm continues. His wings sag along with his shoulders. “I thought it would take longer than that, but that’s really the long and short of it.”

Perceptor’s processor thrums inside him as he considers all of this. This should have been the obvious answer, he thinks, and it’s caused him to be insensitive. But he hadn’t considered Brainstorm would have so little experience, because of his age and his… Physical qualities don’t seem appropriate to factor in, given he’s so much more than that. If he were to say intelligence, he expects that just reflects his own personal bias. The only word Perceptor can think to attribute as a cause for his logical gap is ‘desirability.’

It also seems that Brainstorm might expect this to be the end of their relationship, at least in a non-professional sense. The kiss, it occurs to him, was so forceful and unanticipated because he thought it would be the last one.

Perceptor feels very foolish for not being more...well, perceptive, of the situation, and to be the cause of this distress, but it’s not something he doesn’t intend to correct immediately.

“Brainstorm,” says Perceptor, gently, “I’m not expecting anything of you. I don’t want to force you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. I’m sorry if my actions did not reflect that.”

Brainstorm starts to pace again and pauses a few steps away with his arms crossed. “It’s not that, I just— It was intentional, waiting this long. I didn’t want to… With just anyone. For a long time. And then someone came along, and then he died, and now…” He looks over his shoulder as he says this.

Perceptor nods. “I understand.” He hopes that sound true; he means it.

“B-But you, I think…” He sighs. “I think I’d like if it was you. If you’re still interested, after all this.” He looks away after he says this, and after a moment something in his expression changes and he looks back. He still looks tired, and by no means his usual chipper self, but he’s enduring his vulnerability as best he can, and Perceptor’s spark thrums as he considers this.

He opens his arms slightly and takes a step forward, hesitating. “May I?”

Brainstorm’s eyes widen slightly and he nods, taking a hesitant step of his own as Percy crosses the vast majority of the distance and squeezes Brainstorm to him, and he just holds him like that for a while. At this distance he can feel Brainstorm’s field relax slightly from the frayed, spitting ends of static it had been before into something soft and gently thrumming. Perceptor’s own is similar, though he can’t hide the emotions stirring in his spark and he suspects Brainstorm can feel it. He struggles for words, wanting to just stay in this embrace in place of causing any more pain.

“I’d...be honored. But I want you to feel comfortable. I wanted to apologize, for the notes—”

Brainstorm snorts in weak amusement. “Oh, forget the notes. Just know I’m going to make fun of you for a few weeks for bringing datapads to a make out session. You must have extra room in that big brain of yours for stuff like that.” He holds Perceptor just as tightly against him, and neither of them move.

“I want to please you,” Perceptor says uselessly. He’s already said as much.

He feels Brainstorm’s face pressing against his neck growing warm. “I already said you could. I thought you were supposed to be smart or something.”

“I thought so too.” Perceptor smiles.

“That was mean,” Brainstorm mutters, wrapping his arms around Perceptor a little tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Brainstorm sighs again and gives up on words for a while. Perceptor abandons them as well, letting their fields grow soft and relax into each other, spreading out into the space around them and filling the suite with an ambient, pleasant buzz of electromagnetism. There’s space for everything said to sink in and the unnecessary emotions attached to dissipate, gradually. The anxiety and tension filters out of the air slowly and is replaced with an all-enveloping, soft companionship.

Eventually, Brainstorm shifts subtly out of the locking fit they’d made against each other, letting the comparatively cool air rush in and fill the space between their frames. Brainstorm’s hand closes around Perceptor’s, though, and he pulls him behind him with a gentle, “Come on,” towards the adjacent room.

When they’re inside, Perceptor moves to hit the lights, but Brainstorm pulls his arm back in and leans to kiss him. “Leave them,” he says, pressing his lips to Perceptor’s. Perceptor murmurs and affirmation and seals them into a full-fledged kiss. He’s gentle and slow, but rises to the pace Brainstorm sets of something more passionate. Perceptor’s fingertips trace the cable in his cheek up and back down, tapping against his lip and getting pushed aside when Brainstorm demands his tongue.

Hesitant though he is to push anything out of bounds, Perceptor opts to take more initiative, trying to recall a long time ago before his own seal had been broken. He moves forward, guiding Brainstorm back towards where he’d seen the recharge slab. Brainstorm moves easily and lifts himself onto the berth with a slight shake in his legs. Their kiss breaks for a moment and they make eye contact, and Perceptor smiles at him. Brainstorm lets out another vent and tries to tug him up.

Perceptor climbs onto the bed next to him, moving towards the corner next to the wall, and folds himself into it. “Come lean against me,” he says.

“You really put some thought into this, didn’t you?” Brainstorm asks, trying to add a bit of lightness to his tone, though the slight quake in his voice is still evident. “Since ten minutes ago when I told you, I mean.” But he rearranges himself, carefully moving his wings so they don’t scrape on the walls, and presses his back to Perceptor’s chest, slouching down slightly when Perceptor’s arms circle around him as he relaxes.

Perceptor chuckles a little but doesn’t answer, instead pressing a kiss to the side of Brainstorm’s helm where it rests near his shoulder. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna fall asleep here if you don’t do something. You ever consider being a pillow instead of a scientist, as a career?”

“Relax,” Perceptor says, sensing the fluctuations in his field, having come far enough to know when his humor is being used defensively. He runs his hands soothingly up and down Brainstorm’s arms, twisting his fingers to light along different lines of his armor, different dips and curves, focusing a little energy into his fingertips so it reacts with his field and his sensors. Brainstorm shivers and melts a little against him.

“Just as I thought,” Brainstorm murmurs, tracing lines in his own palms with his fingertips, unable to resist the urge to move along with Percy. “You’re going to be very good at this. How many— No, actually, never mind, don’t answer that.”

“Not as many as you’d think,” Perceptor answers with a soft smile, bringing his hands up higher on Brainstorm’s arms, dipping lower into his wrists and palms.

“You know what they say about Wreckers,” Brainstorm says vaguely, though his field relaxes a little.

“Depends on the Wrecker,” Perceptor insists. “I’m very selective,” he adds.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? Sneaky bastard.” Perceptor leans his helm against Brainstorm’s fondly and continues moving his fingers, batting Brainstorm’s fingers away from his own palms so he can trace each seam of his hands, the little ones cutting across each digit, the fold in his palm. “This feels nice,” he says a little more quietly, a little in awe, and more than a little beginning to relax. There’s a beat. “You don’t have to be so gentle.”

“Just trust me,” Perceptor says, refusing to let either of them rush this.

Brainstorm inhales a soft vent. “You know I do,” he says as he lets it out. Percy thinks he hears him smile, or maybe it’s just the inextricable link of their fields telling him now that he is. “Not all of that running away had to do with nervousness, you know. I also thought I might not be able to control myself around you.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Perceptor teases, spending a moment to thread his fingers between Brainstorm’s and give them a gentle squeeze.

“Never said I wasn’t a sneaky bastard too.”

“So much for ‘opposites attract.’” Brainstorm snickers at this, but quiets when Percy unlaces their fingers and rests his hands gently on his abdomen, just letting the warmth of their plating mix together. He waits, expecting another comment, but none comes. Instead, Brainstorm shifts slightly, indicating Perceptor should keep going, so he does.

For a long time, Perceptor just touches him. It varies in pressure but is always kept soft and almost teasing, stirring sensations from within the tactile sensors linked to their arrays. Brainstorm’s comments come less and less frequently as he simultaneously relaxes and lets himself grow aroused under Perceptor’s careful exploration. They each keep their panels closed, and Perceptor has no intention to open his at all unless it actually gets to that point, but he’s growing more and more deeply aroused just guiding his partner’s responses, sparks jumping between Brainstorm’s frame and his fingertips the longer he guides them over him.

He moves from his abdomen to his chest, his neck, stretching out gently along the smoothly engineered lines of his wings, spending a good deal of time on each and circling back as he sees fit. He revels in the way Brainstorm shivers against him and shifts to open up more of himself to Perceptor’s touch, fans spinning and vents heaving the longer they engage. The heat builds slowly in both of them, but their fields raise slowly to a soft, sexual energy and indication of mutual desire.

After almost an hour, Perceptor kisses the side of Brainstorm’s helm again and rests his palms on Brainstorm’s thighs, drawing little circles with his index fingers that reach lower and lower. Brainstorm sighs out a little moan and shifts against him, throwing his head back.

But Percy still wants to make sure. “Do you still want to—”

“Yes,” Brainstorm breathes before he can even finish his question. “I don’t know how you could ask me that after teasing me so long.” He reaches for Perceptor’s hands, squeezing them as he lets out another vent, and releases his panels. Perceptor hears the hiss of his spike pressurizing, and Brainstorm moans at the coolness of the air and the release of his heated equipment. He squeezes Perceptor’s hands once, hard, before letting go.

Perceptor shifts behind him, nudging Brainstorm’s cheek with his nose to get him to turn and kiss him, something Brainstorm does easily, eager for a distraction. Perceptor curls a hand around his spike and presses his fingers against the soft mess of his valve in the same instant, feeling a surge in Brainstorm’s field that instantly blooms out into surprise and a hesitant pleasure. Brainstorm gasps at the same time and spreads his legs a little wider, lifting his hips against Percy’s hands.

He breathes out Perceptor’s name and shudders again when Perceptor squeezes his fingers between his soft, swollen lips and grinds them up the length of his slit. The seal is so wet with the lubrication that’s leaked through that he can hardly tell it’s there; it’s soft and slick like any other valve, but offers resistance at a much shallower point. He presses against it as his other hand absently pumps Brainstorm’s spike, rubbing his fingers across the thick silicon, knowing it won’t break from just the pressure of his fingers. He almost gets lost in his sense of exploration, never having broken anyone’s seal before, and it’s been so long since he had his own. But sounds are dripping from his partner as he does this and he doesn’t notice Brainstorm trying to get his attention until after he feels wetness spilling into his other hand.

“Percy…” Brainstorm sighs against him. He seems to want to say something else, but lets out a frustrated sigh instead and sags back against him.

“Sorry,” Perceptor murmurs, wrapping his hands again around Brainstorm’s middle and hugging him to him. His own array is burning from the pressure exerted by Brainstorm’s field when he overloaded, telling him he should be doing the same, but he doesn’t even allow his panels to open.

“We’re not done,” Brainstorm insists. Perceptor smiles and relaxes against him. It seems almost impossible that he could recharge like this, being so aroused, but at the same time it’s such a comfort having Brainstorm pressed against him, holding him securely between the wall and himself. But Brainstorm shifts after a long moment, for the first time in at least an hour, shakily getting up on his knees and stretching out.

Perceptor moves too, equally shaky, but wanting to keep from getting too stiff holding one position. The loss of the comforting warmth and weight clears his head a little, and he finds himself facing Brainstorm again with each of them on their knees. His spike has retracted, but there’s a mess of fluids dripping down his legs and covering his chest. He doesn’t try to hide, but he does guide Percy in to kiss him again.

Perceptor’s hands land on his waist, tracing little swirling circles along the sides of his frame, down his thighs. Brainstorm squirms in a little closer, bringing them up against each other again. They kiss for a long, lazy moment, cycling up to where they’d been before, though Percy never quite came all the way down.

Brainstorm’s fingers sneak down and ghost across the heated seams of Perceptor’s spike panel. “You can open this, you know.”

Perceptor groans at the touch, the way his energy sparks off and his processor seizes as he quickly tries to quell the commands to open his panels, despite what Brainstorm said. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“What are you, shy?” Brainstorm jokes with a smile and a soft kiss. “I told you, I trust you.” He keeps running his fingers along the seams and Perceptor can’t resist any longer. His spike springs forward, knocking against Brainstorm’s hand in a way that sends a jolt straight through his core. “You know, I’ve done this much before.”

“You know what ‘virgin’ means, right, ship’s genius?” Perceptor teases, biting his lip as Brainstorm’s hand squeezes his spike. It takes all he has not to thrust into that warm, tense pressure, even if he thinks about the other warm pressure he might have later.

“Haw, haw. You know what I was talking about, ship’s other genius,” Brainstorm says with a defensive note in his voice. But his expression goes a little more devious, a little more smug as Perceptor’s composure starts to loosen the more he pulls at his spike.

“B-Brainstorm, wait—”

“Just let me do this,” Brainstorm murmurs. “We’ve got all night. You keep taking care of me.” He kisses Perceptor again to silence any protests and puts a hand around Perceptor’s back to urge him to rock with him. It doesn’t take long and Perceptor’s resolve crumbles. Even as he spills transfluid onto both of them and the berth between them, he feels his arousal has hardly ebbed.

He slumps against Brainstorm when it’s over, and this time it’s Brainstorm’s fingers that trace soothing, exciting patterns into the plating along his back. “Let’s lie down,” he suggests, feeling the need to be horizontally oriented. All the heat in his frame is going to his head, and he wants to feel the coolness of the berth against his face.

The rearrange themselves side by side on the berth, curled next to each other but not touching for the first time in a while. It’s a brief reprieve, but that field-based buzz of arousal never ebbs from either of them, and Perceptor senses Brainstorm won’t be satisfied until he gets Perceptor’s spike inside him.

Perceptor swallows at the thought. It’d be a lie if he said he hadn’t thought about it. It’s almost embarrassing that with all that’s happened tonight, it’s got a different kind of light around it now, a stronger sort of appeal. Not for the physical sense, but for the deep emotional intimacy they’re sharing now. He wants to take that even further.

Perceptor onlines his optics again to find Brainstorm watching him. “Brainstorm,” he says quietly. His hand goes up to rest on Brainstorm’s hip again, tracing in a little closer to his valve. “Can I use my mouth?”

Brainstorm’s face contorts slightly as it cycles through a complex phase of eagerness. He nods. “I didn’t think you’d be so into this,” he says. “I’m not used to this much honesty either. It’s not as hard as I thought it’d be.”

Perceptor smiles again, leaning in for one more kiss before he slides himself down the berth again. It’s a bit of a challenge to fit them both on it in this position, but with some coordination, he manages to fit himself between Brainstorm’s thighs with an arm wrapped around each of them. He hears Brainstorm’s fans spinning at full throttle again as he lavishes his tongue down on Brainstorm’s charged, swollen node. Brainstorm’s hands go to his helm, fingertips gripping what edges they can while not pulling or pushing. He’s tensed up with desire, and Perceptor rubs a thumb along his thigh plating to urge him to settle back into ease.

He gasps when Perceptor moves down past his node again, licking the long flat of his tongue up against his seal, gathering lubricant on his tongue and mixing it with his own fluids. The silicon tastes clean and resists the press of his glossa. He and Brainstorm groan together when he circles the edge of the seal, skirting along the tender seam so the calipers just beyond flex desperately. “Perceptor…” Brainstorm groans. His legs shake slightly and if his own arousal is anything to judge by, Brainstorm is already eager for him again.

But Perceptor isn’t done here. He teases at the seal, almost giving Brainstorm’s calipers something to grasp by turning it inwards, cycling them both up high when Brainstorm moans again. His heels scrape along the berth, thighs clutching Percy inwards. Gradually, Perceptor teases another overload out of him that leaves him shivering, leaking more lubricant, field buzzing, alive with a fresh wave of energy.

Brainstorm tugs Perceptor up again. “Percy, please,” he whines. “I… I want you.” He hugs Perceptor to him and spreads his legs further, trying to urge Perceptor between them. Perceptor braces his hands against the berth, nodding breathlessly as he shifts his hips. His spike is pressurized again, and in fact he can’t remember if it had ever stopped. He sits up, pulling out of Brainstorm’s reach so he can adjust their position, and takes in the view.

Brainstorm is lying disheveled and flushed below him, coated in various fluids, field positively vibrating with raw, wanting energy. Perceptor sways for a moment on his knees between his legs, overcome with something he doesn’t often feel. “You’re beautiful,” he says without really thinking.

“I love you, Percy,” Brainstorm replies, equally spontaneous.

There’s a short pause where Perceptor’s spark swells impossibly in his chest, which is a clear enough answer to him, but he says it back anyway, leaning back down to kiss Brainstorm’s cheek for a brief moment. This feels right, and without any more hesitation he guides his spike to Brainstorm’s valve and pushes in.

He stills immediately when Brainstorm tenses. Perceptor knows it has to be done fast, and he’s aware that all the excess lubricant they’ve built up was for the purpose of comfort, but it doesn’t really give his partner much time to adjust to the stretch. Brainstorm’s hands squeeze around his wrists, and his thighs squeeze around his hips. He chokes on a few soft noises and his hips move testingly. “Alright?” Perceptor asks gently. His spike is throbbing, being massaged by Brainstorm’s flexing calipers, testing their own capabilities for the first time, and it’s maddening, but he’s cautious enough to restrain from movement.

“Percy—” Brainstorm grabs for his shoulder, trying to pull him down. He only manages to reach his upper arm, but Perceptor leans down anyway, chest to chest with his partner, keeping them joined. Brainstorm keeps making soft noises, apparently trying to form words. “Percy, _move_ ,” he says finally.

Perceptor nods eagerly, a haze filling his head as he’s granted permission to indulge them both in friction. He moves, shifting his hips to thrust at a slow, regular pace, but Brainstorm urges him up a notch. Neither of them are going to last at this rate, Perceptor thinks. The sensors on each of their equipment are trading charge faster than he could process even if he wanted to, and he’s pretty sure he’s blown a fan or two—he’ll have to go see Ratchet tomorrow—but he’s determined to hold out for Brainstorm.

He buries his face in the other’s neck, keeping his forearms braced around his helm on the berth and slamming his hips repeatedly against Brainstorm’s quaking frame. He’d like to be gentler than this, really, but Brainstorm is urging him on and they’ve done so much to prepare, so much that affected him as well, he’s so deeply embedded in this eagerness that he’s got to let it out by some measure of physicality.

Overload hits Brainstorm after another minute, and at the first instant of the flexing squeeze of his calipers, Percy is spilling his relief into his seizing valve as if they’d come together by chance. Maybe they had; Percy’s not sure how much longer he could have held out, but it’s a sweet, tense, downhill relief that they ride out together.

Long after that they lay together, Brainstorm’s shaky fingers stroking along Perceptor’s back as they both expel harsh vents and listen to the sound of sputtering fans. Perceptor tilts with great effort onto his side. With a good deal more effort, Brainstorm rearranges himself so he can fold his wings behind himself, turning to face Perceptor.

Percy raises a hand again to cup his lover’s cheek, still venting hard, and Brainstorm’s hand comes up around his. He brings their foreheads together and heaves a great sigh and then laughs, and Perceptor feels a different kind of warmth spread through him. “Good?” he asks softly.

“Passable,” Brainstorm snickers.

Percy tries to give him a skeptical look, but he thinks it doesn’t get past his smile.

Brainstorm’s smile relaxes into something less mischievous and more fond. He leans forward for one more chaste kiss. “Alright, the best,” he says. “Don’t let it get to your head, ship’s genius.”


End file.
